Chương 23: Again and Again

The twentieth loop soon passed by. Pain Tolerance and Sneaking continued gaining experience each day, with the former even reaching level 44, despite the vastly greater experience required to improve a skill at that level. Blunt Resistance similarly rose at a steady pace, with it gaining nearly an entire level every couple of loops. Aside from those three skills, he often spent what few hours he had before evening levelling his charisma-related skills by conversing with the commander and quartermaster.

If his previous death was too severe and his convulsions too serious, Lenore would keep him in the infirmary, and he would spend the time before his imminent death studying the physician's medical work instead, levelling his Field Triage skill. Once their levels rose past 20, it was unlikely that further interaction would yield any tangible benefits. But that didn't bother Alcyr, since a higher Persuasion, Barter, Presence, or Field Triage skill wouldn't exactly save him from his current predicament.

The only reason he even bothered levelling those skills was because there was literally nothing else he could do in his half-crippled state. Aside from levelling his auxiliary skill, he had been slowly gathering what little information he could on the shadowy creature. Though he was also no closer to discerning its identity, motives, or origin, there was enough groundwork for him to start forming a few theories. The first big clue was the creature's appearance — or rather, the means by which it hides itself.

Thanks to his mentor's teachings, Alcyr was not unfamiliar with illusory abilities and could recognise when his senses were being manipulated. Knowing that doesn't really help me here, however, he thought. I don't have any abilities that allow me to bypass illusions. He could at least tell from the illusion that the creature must be quite adept in its use of sensory-blocking magic. At the very least, its ability was beyond anything he had seen the barbarians deployed before in the campaign thus far.

Just looking at its form made his eyes hurt, and if he tried recalling how it looked, his mind simply conjured a roughly human-sized black blob. Breaking the creature's illusion might be worth considering. If I can glimpse at its true form, I might be able to discern a weakness. The second big clue he had was the axe the creature was holding. The fact that it held Warlord Bjorn's silverite axe was a significant hint to its possible motivations. There aren't many reasons why it would come to the infirmary.

I doubt it's there to steal medical supplies. In that sense, Alcyr wasn't killed simply because it was in its way. The monster had deliberately gone to the infirmary to take him out. Vengeance for the warlord, maybe? And probably to steal back the axe as well. Putting aside the material value, it might hold some tribal importance significant enough to necessitate a retrieval, despite the great risk.

The reduced security around the mountain was probably why the monster chose to strike at him now instead of days or even weeks ago. With the majority of the Regulars recently deployed to the fields, the mountain had far fewer guards and patrols, allowing the assassin to sneak in.

Putting all the clues together, Alcyr's best guess was that the monster was some sort of powerful familiar, conjured by the infamous circles of barbarian shamans who had just recently entered the war against the kingdom, and it was targeting him specifically as revenge for the Frostcoil Tribe. It was a painfully weak theory, if he was being honest. There were too many holes in it.

If the barbarians truly had such a powerful assassin at their disposal, why would they only unleash it now, instead of right at the start of the invasion? Grandmaster Faldren or Master Lenore would also be better targets for assassination. Either death would be a crippling blow to the 4th Regulars, possibly halting the kingdom's invasion entirely. Killing Alcyr wouldn't achieve anything near that level of consequence.

Maybe I'm just the first target the creature was supposed to kill before it moved on to the commander and captain… Or maybe I've missed the mark completely, and its goal and origin are something else entirely. Theorising about the creature's motives was exasperating. More than its strength, it was the timing of its arrival that bothered him. He had literally just woken up after overcoming an ordeal spanning a hundred and fifty loops.

Wasn't it too coincidental that an opponent of this calibre would just stumble in his life so soon after the last one? It's as if fate refused to give me a break before throwing me into this 'Well'… Still, in a way, that was fine too. He never wanted things to be easy.

More loops passed. By the thirtieth loop, Alcyr was familiar enough with the creature's patterns to execute his plan. The weakness of his body had robbed him of the ability to fight fairly, but the time loop gave other advantages he could exploit. For instance, repetition. If the creature was too fast and reactive to ambush against, then his next best option was to strike it through a counterattack. Anticipating its speed wasn't too difficult, especially once he had properly attuned himself to it over the loops.

If he knew where and how he was going to get hit, then no matter how fast his opponent was, there was no reason why he couldn't intercept the attack in advance. The creature's strength was a bigger problem to deal with. The opponent's fist could pulverise bone and flesh with ease. Even if Alcyr could guard in time, he was still going to get his limb and head crushed. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

Fortunately, he had a certain trick that could easily counter the creature's monstrous strength. He just needed to get the timing right, and that was what he had been training himself for in these past dozen or so loops. That night, Alcyr waited patiently by the door, his breathing slowed and his pain ignored. When he heard the telltale slump of the guard's death outside, he tensed in anticipation. The door opened, and the creature walked through.

The moment Alcyr twitched, a shadowy fist was instantly launched towards his head. It was the same movement he had seen countless times over. So long as Alcyr stood at the exact same position, prepared to ambush it at the doorway each loop, the creature always lashed out with the same predictable move. Alcyr already had his forearm up to guard against the strike. Under most circumstances, it would have been a pitiful defence against such a devastating attack.

But speed and strength did not dictate everything in a fight. If such were the case, he would have never won his duel against the warlord. The fist collided with his arm. And then… Alcyr activated Perfect Parry. Despite the miniscule window, he timed it brilliantly. Countless loops of repeated trial-and-error gave him an unerring sense of the creature's ridiculous speed. For the first time across thirty loops, when the creature struck him, Alcyr did not die.

[Perfect Parry has improved to 23] It did not matter how strong the creature was. Perfect Parry ate the entirety of the force behind that fist. Suddenly and inexplicably devoid of the punch's momentum or the impact's recoil, the creature stumbled in shock. Now! Alcyr surged forth with explosive speed. Agony blossomed all over his wounded body as every single stitch upon his flesh tore open at once.

Mortal Defiance activated a millisecond before his scalpel reached the creature's neck, lending more strength to his desperate attack. Cleave and Red March Swordplay empowered his blade, turning the medical tool into an instrument of death. Alcyr felt his scalpel touch the creature's flesh. And then… [New Skill: Sneak Attack 1 (Common)] The blade shattered against its skin. For hell's sake… Alcyr awkwardly flopped to the ground, his muscles unresponsive.

His body bled from countless self-inflicted tears in his stitched flesh. His hand still held onto the broken scalpel. He painfully looked up. The creature was completely unharmed. The dark, misty illusion around its neck was temporarily disrupted, but Alcyr could see no wound. The creature touched its neck, its movement displaying something akin to child-like curiosity. It completely ignored Alcyr, who was crumpled at its feet. Alcyr gritted his teeth.

He forced his arm to move, attempting to stab at the creature's ankle. There was a sudden blur of movement. He was on his back, one forearm pinned by a clawed hand, while the other was held down by a knee. The creature was atop him. This close, the hazy, illusory effect made his eyes and mind hurt tremendously. Its face was close, head cocking to the side curiously. Siken strands of hair tickled against his cheeks.

He heard a soft breathing above him, its warmth gently kissing upon his forehead as the creature leaned closer. The faint scent of lilac and blood filled his nose and tongue, sweet and cloying. Its other hand glided against his chest, fingers tracing lightly as its claws sliced open the front of his surgical gown, leaving him bare. Almost bashfully, it then pressed its palm over the naked skin above his beating heart, fingertips apart. And then… Its claws sunk deep into his flesh and gouged.

The sound was horrifyingly wet, like the tearing of soaked cloth. Flesh squelched, bone snapped, and blood sprayed like a fountain as the creature ripped his entire heart out of his ribcage in a single, powerful motion. Around him, the infirmary walls, floor, and furniture became painted with his blood. [Mortal Defiance has improved to 33] [New Skill: Tempered Flesh 1 (Uncommon)] Alcyr's vision began fading to black. By this point, he thought nothing the creature did could surprise him anymore.

Then, Alcyr watched, helpless, as the creature brought his still-beating heart to its face. The misty shadows receded briefly, revealing an angular jaw and mouth filled with knife-like teeth. The monster ravenously bit his heart, tearing off a large chunk of the organ's flesh before eagerly swallowing the rest in one bloody gulp. Alcyr felt the grip of its other hand tighten unconsciously, crushing his forearm.

The sound of his bones snapping, accompanied by the wet tearing and chewing of his flesh, was so viscerally nauseating that a sane person would have thrown up on the spot. Alcyr did not flinch. He spent the last few seconds of the loop observing the horrific actions of his foe with detached focus, committing his fading mind to memorise every detail, looking for the slightest hint of weakness or advantage he could exploit in future loops. His vision soon faded to nothingness, but his other senses remained.

He heard the creature finish swallowing. He could feel its heat when it crouched over him and recognised the touch of its wet fingers as they gently stroked against his pallid face. And then he felt soft human lips, pressing tenderly against his forehead. They moved to his ear and murmured lovingly.

"You were magnificent." The creature's finger bored into the side of his skull and into his brain. There was a brief spark of pain, and then he was falling through Hell's waters once more.

His subsequent awakening was the most violent one he had ever experienced. To describe his seizures as mere 'convulsions' did them no justice. Alcyr felt his muscles ripping themselves apart, his joints stretching out of their sockets, and his spine straining as it bent against his will. Lenore rushed to save him, but the sudden worsening of his condition left her no time to prepare. Alcyr held on for as long as he could, but eventually, the phantom pain won over his endurance.

His heart burst within his chest, right as his spine snapped. [Pain Tolerance has improved to 45] [Tempered Flesh has improved to 2] He had thought the days where a single instance of agony could surprise him were behind him, but it seemed he was wrong. Thankfully, the intensity of the false death seemed to lessen in the next loop, as if the previous one had borne the bulk of the burden. With the phantom pains eased, Alcyr was able to survive with only minor convulsions in the next iteration.

A normal person might have been driven mad by the pain or by the horrors they witnessed. At the very least, they should have felt some form of dread. Alcyr only felt the faint stirrings of fascination.

"So, it can talk," he murmured. His assassin had just become a lot more interesting.